


Touch.

by Sinner69 (TheLoneRaven909)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Friendship/Love, Other, this is just mostly mettaton being emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneRaven909/pseuds/Sinner69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton realizes he's alot lonelier than he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch.

**Author's Note:**

> ((This is really short, I'm not the writer i used to be...but i have alot of emotions about mettaton  
> honestly, this was supposed to be dirty, and then i thought about blooky and it got emotional instead.  
> enjoy!))

For a star, Mettaton sure was lonely.   
See, it was something he took advantage of, as a ghost. Touch. He couldn’t really touch anything as a blook; nothing physical anyway. Ghost sandwiches every day, Same old, same old. Try to hold something for too long, it slips right through your tiny ghost hands. Cuddles with blooky were good, though. So Mettaton never really cared, or wondered, what physical touch was like.  
Okay, that was a lie.  
It was all he ever thought about.  
What a kiss could feel like! What a hand linked with your own, laying on the cool grass and gazing into eachothers eyes felt like! What breath on skin felt like, what skin felt like! He daydreamed daily about things like this. Obsessed over it. Wished he was a human, or anything other than a blook. Yes, he loved his existence, loved himself, but….he needed more.  
Touch.  
So when a tiny lizard woman said she had the cure, he was first in line.   
And he made sure everything was perfect.   
No more dreaming! No more wishing. No more sadness. Now, he could touch. He could feel! He could truly be alive! Never again would he avoid a hug or a handshake, no, he would embrace them. He would kiss, touch, love, smile, laugh, breathe, indulge.  
So, call him selfish, but he was happy.  
But, the world never really gets handed to you, after all. Alphys gave him this gorgeous new body, He had the pipes of an angel, the talent, the hard work put into it, the passion.  
And yet, the superstar found himself alone.  
Touch could be painful, too. The grabbing hands, tugging, tearing, yanking. Wanting a piece of him. Wanting him, but impatiently. Obsessed. I’m the idol everyone craves, he would tell himself, to make it feel better. But it made him feel more like an object. He was sexualized, objectified. So much, so soon, it just sort of…..became him. No longer was he the soft, chipper blook of yesterday. He had to look the part, had to act the part. A dirty, seductive, beautiful sex machine. Of course, only after-hours, once the kids were asleep.   
God, was it tiring. He thought being the biggest star in the underground would solve all his problems, but in reality, it only gave him more of them. Constantly busy, constantly distracted, constantly practicing. He couldn’t have a moment to himself, couldn’t be himself.  
It was times like these Mettaton wished he hadn’t been programmed to feel, after all.  
Even in a crowd of millions, he still felt alone.  
Mettaton needed a lover. Needed to be in love. Needed that contact, that reassurance. But, he didn’t know what love was! He’d never had that connection, never kissed anything but his mirror. Never REALLY had sex. And now, everyone thought he was some womanizing sexbot, but really, he was the same, squishy blook underneath the metal and glitter.   
And he really wanted someone to hold him.  
But who could love a man made of steel and silicon?  
It seemed even after getting all of his dreams handed to him, Mettaton still needed more. Was love too much to ask? Truly, he only needed to love himself.  
That was it! That’s the key! To love himself, it would balance him out.  
But, didnt he already love himself?  
Mettaton thought about this very question as he sat in a lounge chair, painting his toenails. He paused to wiggle his toes, frowning softly. He glanced to himself on a mirror nearby. Tilted his head.  
Well, of course he did!  
But..there was something missing. He loved his new body, his new identity, but he was losing himself. The blook, the piece of him deep, deep down. Under the fame and the glamour. Ahh. So that was it. He needed to find himself again.   
Mettaton reached over the sofa and grabbed a telephone off of the little pink desk next to him. He knew the number by heart, though it hurt a bit to dial it. He waited for a couple seconds, no answer. Worried, the star tried again…...and again…….and again. He was about to hang up after a fifth time, when finally, the softest, sweetest voice sung out from the other end. It sounded like rain. ”....yes…?”   
Tears were already in Mettaton’s eyes as he gathered the courage to speak.  
“I’m coming home.”


End file.
